Date: Fri, 06 Jun 2008 16:58:14 -0400
From: J
Subject: TRIO 36
On the floor of the pub, Casm rolled over onto Johnno's stomach, "See,he
helped me heal you. You're totally healed! Nice stomach!"
Johnno wrapped his hands over Casm's little frame, "It's not as tight as
yours!"
"But it's so willing..." Casm rolled off his back and onto his stomach,
stomach to stomach with Johnno, "...to take me into it..." He undid his
cloth and his erect penis popped out and into Johnno's freckled belly
button. Wiz was on his knees nearby, looking rather sheepish. "Hey come
here!"
"Yeah but you and he are..."
"We love each other...but that doesn't mean we can't have room for more,"
Casm smiled and opened his arms, "C'mon, cum here!"
Wiz moved on his knees closer and Johnno drew him in and put his face
between the hips of Casm and himself. Wiz lapped up pre cum.
"Sigh," Simon said and moved to a bar stool. "Hey..." He nodded to the bar
keep, "Who are those four blokes?"
The bar keep looked at Simon, "I hire em for..." He was reaching for a
poster on the wall and turned away from Simon.
"Body guards? They didn't do much..."
"Oh no, they is bleedin' cowards, they is," the bar keep said, reaching for
the poster behind the bar that read, "NO SHIRT, NO SHOES, NO SERVICE--SHOES
AND SHIRTS MUST BE WORN".
"Then..." Simon watched the bar keep use a crayon to black out the NO's
and cross out the "MUST". Above the "MUST" he fills in "MAY OR MAY NOT".
"They is big, they is but they just clean up the messes afterward..."
Simon looked toward the sound of cum splashes, "There'll be another kind of
mess to clean up..."
The four big effeminate muscle guys in pink satin short tights were using
hooks to grab the bodies of the gang that was just killed by Simon and
Casm. One blond with short hair, put a hook into Soy's stomach and pulled,
ripping it open.
"No, no!" The bar keep ran to them, excusing himself to Simon, "Not that
way. It'll just make what little blood this land has allowed in him to
stay, to spread out all over me nice floor! Like this!" Tono, the brunette
muscle guy stared at him over the shoulder of the blond guy, his lover
Braht. The bar keep put the hook deep in the former belly button and
dragged. Braht's dick, large and over 9 inches, popped out of his pink
shorts.
"Oh damn, I don't wanna ruin these shorts. I just bartered for them
yesterday."
"All four?" Simon put in.
"Yes, hon, all four. I buy for all the body drags..."
"Body drags?"
"We drag the bodies out..."
"It's fun!" Tono laughed.
"Go on," the bar keep held the hook out for Braht, who quickly took it,
licking his lips.
Belly button to belly button, Johnno and Casm rubbed. Wiz's tongue lapped
in among both buttons. Saliva, pre cum and the first shooting of actual
cum, held back by both Casm and Johnno, mixed.
Simon looked at Casm, "Hey, you, I need your help getting some guys, Trio,
out of Nolo's arena."
Casm smiled, "Trio, I've heard of them. I know they help people..."
"Then you'll help them?"
"I really don't think so." Casm was not in the mood for talk, "I...I don't
know. I am for peace...I don't kill for fun...or enjoy it...I know they do
enjoy it."
Seani and Gorm, the other two muscle men clean up guys passed by. Simon
looked at Casm, "Can we talk?"
"Can we do that tomorrow, I'm kinda beat," Casm said. "I need a good night
in bed..."
Johnno winked at Wiz, "Join us?"
Simon sighed.
That night in bed, in a large purple bed with a pink blanket underneath,
Johnno, Casm, and Wiz slept. Johnno turned over from his back to his belly
on the right side of the bed and planted an arm across Casm's chest and
Wiz's side. Casm was in the middle. He was not sleeping unlike the other
two. Casm held the arm and tried to move it off himself. "It's so
hot...hot..." He looked out the window to a starry sky. "Can't you do
something about that, Wiz? I can't sleep..."
Wiz murmured in his ear, "You hot? I think so."
"Not that." Casm puffed, "The weather. It's very, very hot. The fans do
not work any longer...those musclemen doofuses will have to repair
them. I'm hot." Johnno snored.
Wiz rolled over, his eye lids drooping over his red eyes, "I tired...hot?
Want cold?" He waved a hand wearily and blinked his eyes and turned over
onto his belly.
It began to snow in the room. Casm kept his eyes open, not reacting. Snow
came down and when it hit his bare belly, it melted. Snow melted,
glistening, on Wiz's bare back. Johnno turned over and snored some more as
snow filled his mouth. He opened his mouth and closed it, tapping his
tongue three times to get some snow in his mouth. Still he slept. Casm
moved Johnno's other arm, which tried to lay across his belly. The boys
were slick with wetness all over. "Wiz." Casm said, "Make it stop
snowing."
"Huh?" Wiz said in his sleep.
"Wiz," Casm kept calm. "The sheets are wet now."
"Shud ahh went to the outhouse..." Wiz mumbled.
Casm shook him, "Wiz, stop it."
Wiz waved his hand and blinked again and fell sound asleep. The snow
stopped, wisping up some fog, but as soon as it did, and he could see
beyond the fog, Casm beheld a tall, muscled, bronzed figure at the foot of
the bed. "Feng!"
"Hello, little one."
"Hello, master," Casm sat up and started to move over Wiz to get out of
bed.
"No, remain," Feng put his right hand up, "In bed. I do not have much
time. I must tell you, I want you to help Trio."
"But Master, I am trying to not kill," Casm stated.
"And I am proud of you for that..."
"You showed me how to kill..."
"Yes but I see your path has been chosen by you to not kill. That you can
defend yourself and your position is needed. As it is needed for Trio..."
"But Master, your teaching Trio...Trio does do good for this land, I know
that. How can anyone not. However, they like it. They like the killing,
they like...get joy out of it..."
"As you do?"
"Did." Casm frowned, "I did. I mean I still do when I have to kill but I
don't want to." He fingered his belly button which housed a thin line of
water that trickled down from the center of his chest from the remains of
snow flakes.
"I ask you to give the messenger Simon some heed," Feng said, "I taught
Trio, I taught you before they. I ask that you help them. They have their
role to play in this land and many others as do you. You may make up your
own mind but remember me...."
"Always master," Casm smiled, a tear in his left eye. "I will do as you
ask. I will think about it."
Feng vanished in the departing fog wisps. Casm puffed out and laid back
down. He finally fell into a fitful sleep. The snow wetness had already
dried in the heat.
The next morning, Simon awoke and went into the bar, "What are you doing?"
>From the large window on the side of the bar opposite the actual bar, the
barkeep released a pigeon which had a note tied to its leg. The chubby man
laughed, "This is the 30th one I sent out."
"But why?"
"My dear young muscle man," the bar keep said, "You said to Casm you need
help. I am sending for help. Messages to warriors to come here to help."
"I don't have any money..."
"Oh, I have some to give them. I think you'll find there will be those that
will fight for no money...they like the killing."
"That's not Casm, it would seem. Nor myself."
"No," Casm came to the wooden table, "I do not like it. Please sit and have
breakfast with me."
"I'll prepare it," the bar keep said.
"You don't have to," Simon said, "I can..."
The bar keep smiled, "Oh I don't mind...I enjoy it. I just hope some
warriors show up."
"Perhaps if you told me more about yourself..." Casm said, "I might want
to help you further. Where are you from? What fight experience have you
had?"
"Well, I try not to kill when I have a fight...." Simon sat down and faced
him from across the wooden table, "I am from a place in London on the
outskirts...a very cut off place. But I used to work in a
resort...bodyguard...bouncer...and pool attendant..."
Simon thought back to his days as a pool attendant...
It was a hot day. Early in the morning not many people were in the pool
area. Beyond the pool area was the lobby entrance and exit. With a low
thatched roof. A family of four, two parents, male and female, and two
kids, one boy and one girl, very small children, 6 and 2 respectively, were
getting ready to go for a swim. A few other people in twos and threes came
into the area to sunbath or take a dip into the pool for the morning. Simon
smiled at the family. The little girl smiled back at him. Suddenly the calm
was split by the sound of crashing glass. A beer bottle, thrown from the
parking lot, landed between Simon and the family. Glass and beer splattered
everywhere between them. Although the family was not actually hit, the
little girl was frightened enough to start crying. Simon didn't look at
her, for he turned to see another bottle heading right at the family...more
toward the girl's mother who had just scooped her up. Simon knew a warning
would not help. He tossed himself to one side and backward. The beer bottle
hit his massive right pec and broke, dropping pieces off Simon. Simon felt
cut and pulled a small fragment out of his pec. He caught a third beer
bottle. "Get them out of the area, into the lobby, quickly!" The family
and the couples were running now. Into a garbage can, Simon dropped another
beer bottle he caught. He did this as he ran for the fence. It was the
fastest way to the parking lot. Despite it being over seven feet, Simon
catapulted himself over it, holding one hand on the top to do so. He landed
on the other side, his bare feet hitting the hot cement black top. He ran
toward the parking lot. Ignoring the broken glass under his feet, Simon ran
toward the cars.
Leaning against an old convertible with an open back top was a large
muscled 25 year old. Simon noticed him right away. He was bigger than Simon
and Simon knew it. Arms were huge. Legs thick and bulging. Pecs of
steel. Broad, outward shoulders. And he was wearing a blue speedo and
sneakers. To Simon, he looked Russian, but he was just drinking the beer
bottle he held, not throwing. Another male caught Simon's eye. The kid was
younger than himself and wearing a blue cap with brim, brown sport
sunglasses, and a gold necklace. No shirt. Reddish skin. He had a wide open
baby face but with hard cheeks and a serious stare of blue green eyes. The
best thing about this guy was his abs.. A serious, strong eight pack of
nothing but solid muscle. He wore denim pants with high heeled brown cowboy
boots. The denim pants hung low below his hips and Simon was sure the guy
wasn't wearing underwear. And he was sure this was the guy who was throwing
the beer bottles. He reached into the backseat of the open car and flung
another bottle. Simon ran up to the guy, "Cor! Stop it, mate!"
"I'm not your mate," the guy took another slug from a bottle and threw
it. Simon grabbed it mid air and tossed it into the back seat of the car,
breaking it and about a dozen other bottles there.
"What's this about?" Simon asked, "You're drunk. I know you don't mean to
but you're endangering others by..."
"Oh I mean to!" From his voice, Simon guessed Patrick was American,
Irish-German American.
"Patrick! Patrick stop it!" A girl with long black hair came running up to
Simon and from behind his shoulder, leaning on it, she called to the guy,
"Patrick, I was just flirting!" She sounded seriously upset, "I don't even
like his face."
Simon looked over his shoulder, back, behind the girl, "Who are you talking
about?"
"You," Patrick pushed Simon but Simon hardly felt it and didn't move. He
kept his eyes on the girl.
"You are the girl that asked me to flex for ya?"
"Yes, the American girl, remember?"
"And he thinks you and I...?" Simon laughed, "Let me put you straight,
mate..."
Simon turned but as he did, a long pocket knife was out and in Pat's
fist. Before he could flex and tighten, Simon felt the point of the knife
dip into his ample navel and Pat pushed. "Let me put this straight in you,
mate," Patrick laughed. The girl gasped and backed up but watched
fascinated. Pat pushed. His Russian pal just watched, unleaning from the
car and giggling a bit. He nodded in approval.
Simon looked down as the blade in him. Patrick's happy face vanished. He
couldn't move the knife in any more. He puffed his lips in anger and
shoved. "Damn hard stomach. Muscle behind that navel of yours, huh? Well,
take this!" Patrick shoved and flexed his arm that was attached to the
hand that was shoving. Simon leaned in on the knife and his head bent to
Pat's chest.
Pulling up on a bike was Ian, Simon's boyfriend, unknown to the girl, the
boy, and his Russian co-hort. Simon as he felt metal in his guts, recalled
the girl. Amber. Her boyfriend Patrick was an American who's rich dad was
here on business, living in England. Spoiled rich kid. His friend was a
Russian, a poor guy on the wrong side of the tracks, probably used steroids
from the look of him. Although Simon was sure the Russian Petrov did use,
he was positive Patrick didn't. Pat was not skinny but he wasn't overly
pumped either. But those to die for abs...Simon was not going to die for
them but he liked them. Too bad Patrick didn't know Simon favored guys and
those abs in particular.
Bare except for swim trunks, the equally muscled Ian dumped his white bike
and ran toward Patrick and Simon, the pair of them connected by the knife
from hand to inner guts. Patrick felt the muscle, "Can't get it in far
enough."
Simon pushed Patrick with one hand, "In far enough for me!"
Patrick pushed back and used the hand with the knife to re enter Simon's
stomach hole. "Not so fast, muscle boy Limmie!!"
"Ohhhharggg!" Simon bent over as Patrick re stuck him. Simon put both
hands over Patrick's wrist and Patrick put his other hand onto the knife
hilt. He forced the knife in some more. He felt it tear some hard tissue
behind Simon's navel. "Not doing much damage, are you, American brat?"
Simon laughed and pushed the hands out, the knife slowly uncoming. It
withdrew from Simon's navel and the point came out. Simon turned the point
toward Patrick's nice lines. Pat's face turned red as he tried to force
Simon's hands back toward Simon's navel. It almost seemed to work...for
Simon was weakened by the belly gut in his navel hole. Which bled a
bit. But Simon saw the point edge toward him and poured on the strength. As
he did, Ian ran at Patrick from behind.
"Stop it!"
The Russian gave Ian a bear hug from behind, allowing him to pass by. "Not
so fast!" The Russian flung Ian away and from the car pulled a long metal
pipe. Ian ran at the Russian but the Russian popped the pipe into Ian's
bare stomach. Simon saw this but he was busy turning the knife into
Patrick's ab area. Patrick watched, tense and struggling to get control
again. Control he would not get. The knife point slowly turned at Pat's
outward ridge but missiled itself into his belly button innie, a big
oval. Simon let it go in quick but then slowly pushed. Patrick gasped. His
dick head from the slow motion movement and then the fast motion followed
by more slow motion, rose up from between bare skin---taut tight flesh
muscle, smooth and hairless and from between that and his denim pants.
Pat mumured, "Uh, man, no. No, I...RI....ughhh...wouldna taken it this
farrrraar!"
Simon pushed until he saw behind Pat. Ian was still standing but he grabbed
the slick metal silver pipe in his gut which the Russian held there. It
wasn't just a pipe. Ian went down on his knees. He looked at the pipe. He
looked at the Russian. He swallowed. The Russian smiled at him. And
laughed. Then the Russian shook the pipe lose. The pipe was ended with a
long rounded point. It was like a sword. Ian buckled back and fell over his
own butt. His legs came out under him. The Russian moved over Ian.
"Ian!" Simon yelled and let go of the knife in Patrick. Patrick fell,
"Oohhhhh" ing over and over. As he fell, he grabbed Simon's muscled calf to
stop him.
Simon took his other foot, the free one, and yelled while stamping the
knife hilt into Pat's belly button as far as it would go, "LET GO OF ME!"
Simon was free in no time and Patrick, saddled with the full pocket knife
in his belly button, turned over onto his belly to wriggle. Maybe to deal
with the pain. He tried but pushing down just made it go in more and
hurt. His dick exploded on the pavement of heat. Whiteness gooed out from
under Patrick, who kicked more and more and yelled, "No, no, no," over and
over.
"Huh?" The Russian stuck Ian again in the stomach hole even though Ian was
already on his back. Then he felt and heard Simon charging at him, "What
the ?" Simon's full body hit the Russian, who had just enough time to
remove the pipe sword from Ian. Ian jerked up and then down. He put hands
to hole.
The Russian was on the ground and he stabbed up at Simon as Simon tried to
kick him and he cut Simon's upper leg. The Russian jumped to his feet and
faced Simon, who backed off a bit. "Cut this out now! Or you die for
hurting him!"
"Hurting him? I fuckin killed him," the Russian sneered, "And as for
cutting this out...the only thing I am going to cut out is your intestines
from the navel hole out..." He rushed. Simon grabbed as he turned on his
feet, on his heels. He took the pipe right out of the Russian's huge hands
and as the Russian charged, he tried to stick the Russian. But the bigger
guy was too close and the pipe was in between their bodies, sideways. They
both struggled to get control of it. Simon had it full in his hands but had
to fight the Russian's tense muscles to get the point facing the way he
wanted it...in the gut of the Russian. Simon was at full 12 inches of penis
now, making messes and shreds of his work out speedo. This turned him
on. As much as he didn't want it to..for he was worried about Ian.
But suddenly, the giants buckled. One bent. One shoved and bent inward,
stomach moving in. The other, the Russian, bent his back and his hips stuck
out. He was stuck by the pipe. Patrick turned over, his flexing abs
washboarding and unflexing. He pulled the knife out and tossed it up so
that The Russian could grab it. The Russian stabbed Simon's shoulder and
dug it in deep. Simon yelled and screamed but he held on and shoved. The
Russian's back gave way to host a point. The pipe was pushed through and
out his back. Simon and the Russian stayed that way, like dancers stuck
together, like lovers. It was only a few more seconds. The Russian fell
away but didn't fall yet. He bent and tried to hold himself together. He
failed and fell. Patrick huffed. Ian was panting. Simon ran to him,
ignoring the knife in his shoulder. His muscles kept it from hurting too
much. "Are you allright?"
Sirens sounded. Someone, later they found out it was Amber, called the
ambulance and the ambulance men would soon be taking Patrick and Ian onto
stretchers, both in for long recoverys. But as Simon bent over Ian, holding
him in his arms, Amber returned to the scene, "LOOKOUT!"
Simon turned and saw the Russian backing at him, the point coming at
Simon's own back. Simon had time to lay Ian down gently and pop up. As he
did, he grabbed just under the point and jerked it up and down, making the
front of it jerk down and up out the Russian's front, dangling innards out
of it. Meat fell. Simon let go, "Let it go and die already!"
Simon exploded, the Russian exploded and fell in a death cry, Ian exploded.
Simon finished his story, "So that's it, Casm."
"You gave them every chance not to," Casm told Simon from across the table,
"Anything else?"
"I had other fights, a few I backed away from. There was this gypsy, Romany
Gypsies...I guess that doesn't matter..."
"I know who they are," Casm smiled, "I have had some education..."
"More than I, I'm sure," Simon smiled. "Anyway, I saw these gypsies on our
land...my parents have this land, a farm on a great big expanse and the
squatters were just hanging out on it, planting, using the land, you know,
not really doing much harm but it was against the law...and they steal
anything that is not tied down...at least these ones did. I went out there,
no shirt one, just speedo, no shoes, no socks, to intimidate them you
know...scare them off. Well, fuck, they had this 16 year old who was
fucking huge. I think I could have taken him. It was the shorter guy that I
didn't think I could take. He was even bigger but not as tall. He was short
and stout and ripped! Man, he was only 14 but he scared me off. They also
had these dogs out there and told me if I returned they would fucking kill
me!"
"And you left?"
"Yeah," Simon said, "I left...fast. Some gypsies carry knives, you know..."
"Yeah we've had a few in here but they never caused any trouble," Casm
said, "Just passing through...did Patrick die?"
"Naw," Simon told him, "But it was Ian I was worried about."
"What about the Russian?"
"Petrov? That scum, he died allright but it was self defense. Many
witnesses told that about him."
"And Amber?"
"She liked the fight so much she wrote a story about it. A few stories
about me. She got back together with Patrick though. Patrick wasn't really
a bad guy..."
Casm laughed, "He could have killed you and you forgive him?"
"Yeah," Simon said, "I saw some merit in him. He just thought his girl was
into me."
"Wasn't she?"
"Sure," Simon shrugged, his face red, "But...I wasn't in her."
Casm put his hand out and Simon put his hand in it after a nod from Casm
told him to do so. "I will help you. Last night, I had a visitation from
Trio's master Feng, also my master..."
"Feng trained you. He also trained Trio so...and he wants you to help."
"That is not why I am helping you. Your stories have told me that you are a
good man, Simon of London. I will help you because I want to. And because
if you feel Trio deserve saving, then so do I." Simon looked at Casm
deeply. Their eyes met.
Stretching, bare bellied and skinny, Johnno came out from the bed room
areas, "Should I be jealous?"
Wiz was behind him and peeked around, putting his hands on Johnno's hips,
"Wad's ta eat? I'm hungry."
"What else is new?" Simon rolled his eyes. Simon stood and kised Johnno on
the lips, "Don't be jealous, we're all friends here. But he...he is your
lover..."
Casm winked at Johnno, who sat down on his lap, nearly crushing him, all
playfully.
The bar keep turned from one of the open wooden windows, his fat leaning
over it but now turning with him. Joyfully, he smiled, "Oh, I see some
warriors already starting to come..."
TO BE CONTINUED...